Justice for All

This week I’ve been carrying the word “justice” with me like
a prayer.

Stories of downed airplanes, shelling of refugee shelters in Gaza, frightened children
held at the US border: my heart whispers “let justice rain – and reign.”

Justice is one of those words encompassing a rich mix of multiple
meanings, illuminated by interchangeable translations between the Hebrew words
mishpat and tzedaqah and the English words justice, righteousness, equity,
mercy, victory, salvation, “doing all that’s good and right.”

Mishpat has been described as “rectifying justice” – giving
people their due, as when an offended
victim cries “I want justice!”

But mishpat went far beyond to work of the courts to insist
on rectifying inequity, insisting that the most marginalized (widows, orphans, immigrants,
the poor) receive their fair share of the community’s goods and blessings.

The mishpat, or justness, of a society, according to the Bible, is
evaluated by how it treats these groups. Any neglect shown to the needs of the
members of this quartet is not called merely a lack of mercy or charity but a
violation of justice, of mishpat. God loves and defends those with the least
economic and social power, and so should we. That is what it means to “do
justice.”

But mishpat is only one of the words that is sometimes
translated “justice.” Tzedeqah is the other, even more expansive than mishpat:

Primary justice, or tzadeqah, is behavior that, if it
was prevalent in the world, would render rectifying justice unnecessary,
because everyone would be living in right relationship to everyone else.
Therefore, though tzadeqah is primarily about being in a right
relationship with God, the righteous life that results is profoundly social.

From what I can tell, primary justice, tzadeqah, is both
goal and action, end and means. Passages in Psalms suggest that God’s justice,
righteousness, and love are so inextricably linked that we can’t know one
without seeking, receiving, and sharing all three:

The Lord loves righteousness and justice; the
earth is full of his unfailing love. (Psalm 33:5)

Righteousness and justice are the foundation of
your throne; love and faithfulness go before you. (Psalm 89:14)

There are Christians, like Keller, and churches, like Keller’s
Redeemer Presbyterian, that are deeply committed to both seeking and sharing
justice. But for far too many who claim to follow Christ, justice is considered
optional, or even objectionable. I grieve at the many times I’ve heard
thoughtful voices dismissed with “oh, he’s one of those social justice
Christians.”

If God is a God of justice as well as love, I’d argue that
justice should be part of every Christians’ DNA – and I’d argue, as well, that
the church’s lack of credibility and effective witness is in direct proportion
to its lack of interest in seeking and maintaining justice.

One of the misfortunes in the long history of the church is
that we have mistakenly separated love of God from love of neighbor and always
they are held together in prophetic poetry. Covenant members who practice
justice and righteousness are to be active advocates for the vulnerable and the
marginalized and people without resources. And that then becomes the way to act
out and exhibit one’s love of God.

So love of God gets translated into love of vulnerable
neighbors. And the doing of justice is the prophetic invitation to do what
needs to be done to enable the poor and the disadvantaged and the neglected to
participate in the resources and wealth of the community.

And injustice is the outcome of having skewed neighborly
processes so some are put at an unbearable disadvantage. And the Gospel
invitation is that people intervene in that to correct those mistaken
arrangements.

In an 8 month trial, families learn to constrain
themselves, and to expect very little from the system that cares so deeply
about principles and the accused, while the poor and vulnerable struggle in the
land of plenty.

I find, it does not matter what language is spoken, liberty
is a construct defined by the educated elite that has no real bearing on the
working poor.

I hear in her lament the “mistaken arrangements” that ignore
the needs of grieving families and pay little attention to the
underlying inequities that spill over into violence and despair.

No need to look far for other examples: another friend told
me this week of the urban school where her children struggle in crowded classes
with no extra aides or special programs, while just miles away the classes are
smaller, with extra attention for children with learning difficulties, a choice
of after school activities, plentiful resources. She is deeply aware of the
“unbearable disadvantage,” and struggling to move her children to
a better school.

Another conversation this week called attention to local
companies that make life hard for older workers, hoping those workers will
resign (without severence) so younger employees can be hired at lower wages. One member of the conversation
had just lost his job after weathering months of attempts to make him quit; all
the others had suffered layoffs of their own.

“So how is that supposed to work?” one woman asked. “I mean,
for the company, they save money, right? But where are all those older workers
supposed to go?”

The Gospel invitation to intervene points us back to the need for wisdom. We may see ways to offer care to individuals affected by injustice, but it's far harder to see ways to address root causes or call for change in entrenched systems that benefit the privileged and powerful.

I’ve been reading Deepening the Soul for Justice, a little
book (just 44 pages) by Bethany Hoang of International Justice Mission. She talks
about the danger of burn-out, or of feeling so overwhelmed by injustice we do
nothing, and ties effective involvement in injustice to ever deepening
spiritual practice. I’m impressed by her description of the way IJM staff begin
each day in “stillness,” spending time in prayer before facing into the
horrors of human trafficking and the abuse and violence confronting poor women and children.

I’m also impressed with the way Hoang ties justice to
worship:

Justice is always
connected to worship. consider Proverbs 14:31 and the inextricable relationship between how we treat the poor and our worship of God: "Whoever oppresses the poor shows contempt for their Maker; but whoever is kind to the needy honors God.'

The entirety of Scripture emphasizes that true worship, by definition, must always have us thinking about our neighbors in need, just as loving our neighbor should always flow out of our worship.

Justice is always connected to worship, because both worship and justice are about the right
ordering of the world. Both worship and justice proclaim and declare God’s
lordship over all–including evil, including oppression. (36-37)

Hoang points out that most of us will not be first on
the scene in situations of human trafficking or domestic abuse.

But we can still make seeking justice part of our every day
engagement with the world around us.

Here are some practical steps. Please feel free to share you own.

1. Learn to notice and acknowledge injustice and spend time in
prayer about ways to engage.

2. Think carefully about how we use our influence to
include or exclude, to oppress or restore, and take time to treat those around
us (cashiers? servers? colleagues? children?) with equal respect and care.

3. Make purposeful choices that prioritize justice: pay more
for fair trade products, buy goods and services from companies that treat their
workers well.